Chapter 9

9

ALINA

O nce my father picks me up from Derrick’s, the conversation becomes awkward and stilted.

"So, uh, who were you staying with? I thought you had second thoughts about living with me when I got back and you were nowhere to be found."

I’m too tired to come up with a good lie and too worried that my dad would try to contact Derrick, so I take the honest route. "A guy named Derrick. Derrick Anders. We were dating, and it just didn't work out."

The car jerks and Dad makes a shocked sound. "D-do you mean Derrick Anders, the millionaire? Isn’t he like…40? I heard rumors he was living around here but?—"

My throat is tight, and I’m not sure I can handle a full confession, so I cut him off. "Yeah. So I'm ready to go home."

There’s a long pause. "Sure. Yeah. Let's go."

I can tell he has more questions but keeps them to himself—not without a significant amount of effort, though. When we get back to his house, where my little red Honda is still parked in the driveway, I quickly take my duffle bag and run upstairs, yelling some excuses behind me to Dad, who simply stands in the driveway looking stunned.

I collapse on the bed of the guest bedroom—my room, for however long I would stay in this house. I don't have a plan. Derrick doesn't try to call or text again after the first round of heated messages, and after a while, I have to turn off the notifications on my phone just so I don't have to wait so anxiously.

Every time it vibrates, I’m a split second away from giving in and calling him.

But I don’t. I can’t.

Derrick lied to me, kept things from me, and that's not okay.

But despite his lies, his overbearing attitude, I still want him.

Days pass and I barely notice.

Every single moment that we've spent apart has been miserable. It has given me time to really sort through my feelings, and there's a truth inside of me that I just can't shake. The lust and desire I feel for Derrick is something I've never doubted, but beneath it, there's something deeper. Something stronger.

I … I think I really am in love with him.

If he just told me the truth from the beginning, admitting to myself that I was in love would have been cause for celebration. Now, there's nothing but sadness and disappointment.

Dad has barely said anything since he found out that I was seeing a millionaire, and I can tell he's worried. "Alina, can we talk?"

We're at the dinner table, and I haven't touched any of the food on my plate. "Talk about what?"

Dad makes a frustrated noise, and when he speaks, I can hear the worry in his voice. "I'm not stupid, Alina. You don't want to tell me what happened with Derrick, and that's fine. But this isn't healthy. You're not eating. You barely get out of bed."

He's right. I've been stuck inside, thinking about everything that's happened. I miss the sunny morning walks, the evening dinners on the patio, Derrick’s smile when I compliment his cooking.

"What do you want me to say?" I'm not trying to be rude, but Dad sighs and pushes away his plate.

"I want you to do something, Alina. I'm not the best at showing affection, but I'm your dad, and I love you. If you're hurting, I want to help." My heart aches for him, for me, and for everything that's happening. I finally look up at him, and his eyes are rimmed red. He's worried about me.

Oh. He really does care. This is what I wanted when I moved to Cape May, and now here it is. The proof that my father truly cares for me, despite the years apart and unanswered questions between us. I force myself to sit up straighter and give him an honest answer.

"Thank you, Dad. I'm sorry, I know I've been a mess."

His face softens. "It's okay. As long as you're moving forward, it's okay to take your time. Just don't shut down completely."

Giving him a guarantee isn’t something I can do, but I meet him in the middle. “I’ll try my best.”

The following morning, I get a call from a number I don't recognize. Curious, and with a sliver of hope that it might be Derrick, I answer.

"Is this Alina Brant?" an unfamiliar male voice asks.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"This is Bruce Rentschler from RenTech. I'm calling regarding the email we sent you a few days ago with the job offer. We never heard back from you, and I just wanted to check-in. Your portfolio was stellar, and we'd really like to have you on the team."

My stomach drops. The email he's talking about, the job offer that should have been the highlight of my year, is what led me down the path of leaving Derrick. "Sorry sir, it's just…" Then, his words land. "Wait, did you say my portfolio? I was under the impression Derrick Brant asked you to hire me. I never sent you my portfolio."

"You're partially correct. Derrick is an old colleague of mine, and he sent me your portfolio and resumé and told me to have a look. We offered you the job based on your work, not anything Derrick had to say." He chuckles. "I like Derrick, but not enough to hire a random person just because he asks."

My jaw hangs open, and my heart pounds. This changes everything.

"In fact,” Bruce continues, “Derrick hasn't been in contact with me since we sent the offer. I was hoping you were still interested, but if you aren’t?—”

I'm not paying attention to any of Bruce's words now. All I can think about is Derrick.

I told him not to contact me, and he listened. And even though he kept a lot of information about his past and his money from me, he was always honest with what he felt. I wasn't used to the kind of open emotional honesty he displayed when we were together. He told me what he wanted and made his expectations clear—even if those expectations were a little overbearing.

But while he did contact Bruce, it was only to give him my resume and portfolio, just like I would have done myself. RenTech didn't offer me the position based on a request from Derrick; the decision was theirs. All Derrick had done was believe in me and let my work speak for itself.

The realization is a weight lifted off my chest, and the last lingering shred of anger fades away.

"Mr. Rentschler?" I interrupt his rambling about the job. "I'd love to attend the virtual interview."

When the call is over, I sit cross-legged on my bed. I pull out my phone, hesitating as I stare at the screen. If I message him, there's no turning back. Derrick is an all-in kind of guy.

And I guess I’m an all-in type of girl, too.

I tap the contacts icon and pull up his name. My thumb hovers over the message button. It's only three little taps, but it's such a big step.

Then I press it.

Me: Hi.

A couple of minutes go by, and I start to wonder if I'm making a mistake when my phone pings.

Derrick: Angel?

I almost smile.

Me: Yeah. It's me.

Derrick: Are you ready to come home?

It's a simple question, but one that holds so much weight.

Dad's house has become a prison for the last week, and all I've wanted was to go back to the house on the hill—to be with Derrick again. But I needed some space, some time to process everything. Now, I know the truth.

Me: Yes.

The response is immediate, and I can't help but laugh.

Derrick: First we need to talk. Meet me on the beach across from Sage and Salt tonight at 8pm.

I'm not going to lie; it stings that he's not coming to pick me up, but I guess I should have expected that.

Me: Okay. See you then.

I know I need to apologize to him as well. He was wrong for keeping things from me, but I didn't make it easy for him, bolting the second I discovered who he truly was.

I'm not a materialistic person, and I don't care who he is now or who he was before he came to Cape May. All I care about now is if Derrick Anders wants to try again with me, to let me be his—mind, body, and soul.

With our plans set, I go and grab a shower. Tonight, I'm going to wear something special, something to show Derrick how serious I am.

And after tonight, if things go the way I want them to, we'll be going home.

Hours later, I walk along the beach, and it's exactly 8:00 PM on the dot.

The sun is starting to set, and the temperature is dropping. I'm wearing a form-fitting black dress, rubbing my bare arms to stay warm. My heels keep getting caught in the sand, so I stop and slip them off, carrying them in one hand as I continue.

So much for dressing to impress. Oh well, I can be cold and sexy at the same time, if that’s what it takes.

Derrick is waiting for me in a circle of lit candles flickering in the wind, and he looks every bit the wealthy, powerful business tycoon. The fabric of his suit looks expensive, and his watch probably costs more than what my father—for all his modest wealth—makes in a year. His dark hair is styled to the side, and his deep brown, brooding eyes are watching me intently.

He comes forward as I get closer, and when I'm only a few feet away, he takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I can't help the giggle that escapes.

"Thanks. Sorry, it's a little chilly and I didn’t think this outfit through.”

The corner of Derrick's mouth lifts, and his eyes fill with so much warmth and affection that my heart flutters in my chest. "You look beautiful."

"I wanted to look nice," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Alina, you look good in sweatpants, jeans, and a T-shirt. Or nothing at all. You don't have to dress up for me. You're always beautiful, and I love you."

My heart stops, and my breath hitches. Did I hear him right? Did he just say he loved me?

"Derrick," I whisper. "I..."

He takes a step forward and places his index finger on my lips. "No, let me explain. It's been too long since I've seen you, and I can't wait anymore. No matter what, know that I love you, and I want you, and I'm done wasting time."

I'm surprised, a little confused, and so incredibly turned on. Derrick loves me.

"Derrick, you don't have to be so careful. You can say whatever you want, and I promise, I'll listen."

His mouth tilts up into a half-smile, and he nods, satisfied with my answer. "Let's sit."

He's spread out a blanket, and I settle on it, sitting cross-legged with Derrick at my side, looking out at the ocean.

"I'm ready," I say, smiling. "Whatever you need to say."

"Okay." He takes a deep breath. "My name is Derrick Anders. That part is true. But before I came here, I lived in the city. A penthouse suite in one of the most exclusive buildings in the city, overlooking Central Park."

"Oh," is all I can say.

"When I sold my app for such a ridiculous profit, I came to Cape May to retire early. I was hoping for a break away from the pressures of work. I opened Sage and Salt because I wanted something real, something that the community could love, but I never wanted to be the face of it. I wanted to be able to take a step back and see the difference I could make on a small scale. Then I met you and knew that you were my future. Fate led me to open Sage and Salt just so I could see you that day. Now, I want to cement things, Alina. No more secrets. No more what-ifs."

Slowly, he reaches into his pocket. My heart is ready to explode from my ribcage when he pulls out a small velvet box.

"I can't wait anymore, angel. It's been weeks. I love you, and I want the whole world to know it."

I'm shocked, but as he opens the box, the sound escaping me can only be described as a squeal. Inside, sparkling like a star in the candlelight, is a ring. A massive, beautiful ring with a diamond at the center, and a band studded with smaller stones.

"Derrick…"

"I've never felt this way, Alina., about anyone or anything. I don't care if we haven't known each other long. Nothing matters except you and me. Together."

I shake my head, a huge smile on my face. He's being so open and honest, and the tears are welling up in my eyes.

"I don't want to wait. Not another minute or another hour. Alina Brant, will you marry me?"

He holds the ring up, and my entire world spins.

"Yes!" I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I love you, Derrick. So, so much. I don't care about the money or your past. It's just you and me. Nothing else matters."

He slips the ring on my finger and kisses me, and I feel like the luckiest woman in the whole world.

We pull apart, and his forehead rests against mine. "You make me a better person, angel. Every single day, you surprise me, and I can't imagine my life without you in it. Now and always."

"Now and always," I echo, meaning every word of it.

He kisses me again, and the heat builds between us. His hands stroke and squeeze, and soon we lie back on the blanket, the candles burning out one by one as the stars shine brightly above.